Creeping with the Enemy by Kimberly Reid Page A

crosstown bus, I make mental notes of all the things about this visit that will become part of my file on this case, because it has definitely become a case.

Chapter 10
    L ana is on the sofa watching a Perry Mason marathon one of the cable channels runs every Saturday . She loves watching crime shows even though she gets to live it in real life every day, but without the slam-dunk ease the cops solve cases with on TV. I take a seat beside her, trying to figure out how to ask her questions I have about my case without letting her know I’m working one. Lana’s proud of me for keeping myself out of jail by solving the case I was arrested for, but she’s in agreement with Marco’s parents that I tend to attract trouble.
    She’d prefer I’d not go looking for any. That drama almost made her pull me out of Langdon, which would have made me happy before I met Marco. If she even suspected I might be getting in deep with the mystery that is Bethanie and her family, not to mention Cole, she’d probably begin to think Langdon was no better at keeping me out of trouble than my neighborhood school. She’d pull me out for real, before I had a chance to figure out why I’m pretty smart about a lot of things but such a screw-up at being a girlfriend.
    The phone rings and Lana picks up. She listens to whoever is on the other end for about ten seconds, then says, “Not interested.” She puts her hand over the mouthpiece and whispers to me, “Damn telemarketers.”
    I keep watching Perry Mason, expecting Lana to hang up on whoever is trying to sell her something like she usually does, but she keeps listening without saying a word for a minute. Then I guess her patience wears out.
    â€œDo. Not. Ever. Call this house again or I will make you regret the day you found me or my phone number,” she says before slamming down the phone.
    Whoa. That’s a little harsh for telemarketers. I bet they’re bill collectors. Sometimes Lana can live a little beyond her means. Still, her threat sounded a bit too sinister even for the most annoying of bill collectors. The phone rings again, and this time Lana doesn’t even find out who it is, just slams it right down the minute she picks it up.
    â€œPretty insistent telemarketers,” I say. “I guess they really want to sell you something.”
    â€œWell, I’m not buying,” she says, muting the commercials. “Did you ever talk to your friend about her boyfriend?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDid she take it well?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI feel like I’m questioning a perp. What’s with the one-word answers?”
    â€œSorry. I’ve just been a little distracted.”
    Lana doesn’t say anything, which is a cool thing about her. Maybe she learned it from interrogating bad guys, but she knows when to pull the words out of you and when to just let them come on their own. At the next commercial break, I mute Perry Mason again.
    â€œWhat if she doesn’t believe me, but I’m right?”
    â€œDoes it really matter if you’re right? If that’s the only reason you’re telling her, let it go. If you’re right and her not believing you has consequences beyond a broken heart, then you have to keep at it.”
    â€œHard to do if she doesn’t want to talk to me.”
    â€œYou tend to be persistent. I’m sure you’ll find a way.” She picks up the remote, but doesn’t turn up the volume. “Chanti, these consequences wouldn’t be anything that will cause problems for you beyond a lost friendship, are they?”
    Ah, she knows me too well.
    â€œNope, I just don’t like the guy.”
    â€œIf that’s the only problem, it’s best to stay out of it. She’ll figure it out on her own.”
    I leave her to watch Perry get a confession out of the helpless loser on the witness stand so I can think through everything I know about my own